I cannot grieve at what I’ve done for you,
But more for your dear sake wou’d undergo;
To you wou’d sacrifice my Life and Fame;
They ’re yours, which you (and only you) can claim.
In short, I ’m vex’d with every thing I do;
Nor can I think I ’m kindly us’d by you.
False as I am, why don’t I die with Shame,
And so convince you of my raging Flame?
If I had lov’d so well as oft I ’ve said,
Your Cruelty ere this had struck me dead.